


Well Spent

by SolarMorrigan



Category: Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter (2012), Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter - Seth Grahame-Smith
Genre: 3.8k of porn that's it that's all this is, Established Relationship, I'm so sorry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:14:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29844783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/pseuds/SolarMorrigan
Summary: Some nights, rough and tumble was exactly what he wanted—what they both wanted—but this? This was something else. There was something about lying there and simply letting Abe do as he would that ratchetted up every sensation, setting Henry’s nerves alight and leaving him practically trembling with anticipation.Perhaps tonight was less about asking and receiving and more about taking whatever Abe was planning on dishing out.
Relationships: Abraham Lincoln/Henry Sturges
Kudos: 1





	Well Spent

**Author's Note:**

> Working title for this one was just the sound of me banging my head against my desk because I keep telling myself to stop writing smut and then I do things like go look at kink meme prompts. So anyway, you can absolutely, 100% blame [this kink meme prompt](https://abelinc-kink.livejournal.com/944.html?thread=20144#t20144) for this story. I'm not actually posting it as a fill there because the meme is dead and so is LiveJournal but anyway... uh, here's this

Henry exhaled, a satisfied little _hah_ that broke into voice as his attention abruptly shifted from the sensation of Abe’s tongue, warm and wet, just behind his ear, to the feeling of Abe’s finger, slick and perfect, sliding inside of him.

“Ah, fuck,” Henry breathed, hands fisting in the sheets on either side of his head, hips canting back into the pressure.

Next to his ear, Abe chuckled, teeth scraping at the helix as he gave Henry precisely what he wanted and let his finger slide all the way up to the knuckle.

One finger quickly became two, not for any sort of rush but because Henry was ready for it, more than ready, and had no trouble broadcasting it with eager little jerks of his hips.

There were times to tease and there were times to take what he wanted, and then there were times like this – times to _ask_ , when Abe would simply _give_.

“You’re eager tonight,” Abe murmured, all fond amusement and heat with his lips pressed to the corner of Henry’s jaw.

Henry hummed, as much in agreement with Abe’s words as with the way Abe’s fingers were rubbing _just right_ up inside him. He wasn’t much for words in bed, never had been, much preferring to act on his passion, to show how much he desired his partner. Abe, though – Abe had surprised Henry.

“I like it. Seeing how much you want this, how much you like my hands on you. _In_ you.”

Abe was very much a talker.

“Do you want more?”

Nodding into the mattress, Henry gasped as Abe obliged and pressed a third finger into him, long and pointed and perfect, perfect, _perfect_. He made an abortive movement to get his knees under him, wishing for more than anything for a moment to just have more leverage, wishing he could thrust back against Abe’s hand, speed up the tempo, but with his thighs spread and pinned wide by Abe’s knees and with Abe’s free hand planted firmly in the middle of his back there was no way Henry could change position without causing a tussle.

And some nights, rough and tumble was exactly what he wanted—what they _both_ wanted—but this? This was something else. There was something about lying there and simply letting Abe do as he would that ratchetted up every sensation, setting Henry’s nerves alight and leaving him practically trembling with anticipation.

Perhaps tonight was less about asking and receiving and more about taking whatever Abe was planning on dishing out.

Though at the moment, what he planned on dishing out was, apparently, “not much.”

He twisted his fingers and spread them slowly, rubbing at Henry almost sweetly, but never where Henry wanted him most. And all the while, he talked.

“Always feel so good around my fingers, always take it so well, and I know you’ll feel even better when I’m inside you, tight and perfect, _Henry_.” Of course, leave it to Abe to talk dirty without ever technically uttering a single dirty word; leave it to Henry to actually be _turned on_ by it. “I wish you could see yourself sometimes, I really do. Are you sure you don’t want to try it with the mirror, just once? You’re _beautiful_ when you find your pleasure. _Exceptional_.”

Henry didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He’d created an utter monster – not when he’d turned Abe, but when they’d finally gone to bed together and Henry had spent his time carefully breaking down whatever reservations about sex Abe had retained over the decades _since_ he’d been turned (though truly, there hadn’t been as many as Henry might have anticipated; Abe had, after all, led a long and varied life, and an even longer and more varied afterlife – naïve, he was not).

_Mirrors_! Henry had turned the idea down before and shook his head to do so now, but he had the distinct feeling he wouldn’t be able to hold out forever. Abe let the idea go with his usual obvious intent to raise the subject again later, assuming that he only had use reassurance to wear down Henry’s own dislike of watching himself – and while that was certainly a part of it, another part of Henry simply figured he wouldn’t last more than a minute before coming if he were to try watching himself being fucked by Abe.

“Maybe next time,” Abe rumbled, twisting his fingers again.

All at once, “not much” became “ _too_ much” as Abe pressed in on Henry’s prostate, gently at first, then more and more firmly, until every minute motion of his hand sent sparks of pleasure spitting up Henry’s spine, yanking Abe’s name from his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, _Abe_ –”

Eloquence, thy name is Henry.

Right at that moment, however, Henry could not have cared less, too busy trying to spear himself further back onto Abe’s fingers or to get enough friction on his cock to actually _come_.

Henry had been almost embarrassed the first time Abe had done this to him – played his body so well that he’d gotten off with barely a hand on his prick. It had been a quick matter to get over himself, though; so he had a thing for letting Abe take control now and then, so what? Shedding shame over things he needed and things he enjoyed was how Henry survived – and this was a very, very nice way to survive.

Or it had been, until Abe had sat up and taken his hands away so quickly that for a moment Henry could only gasp.

“No – what?” he croaked, attempting to turn and look at Abe.

“Over. On your back,” Abe urged him, already assisting with one hand on his hip. “I want to see your face.”

Henry groaned in frustration but complied with as much coordination as he could muster. Even after everything, Abe was an incurable romantic – then again, as Abe leaned in and pressed a long, hard kiss to his mouth, soothing some indefinable, intangible part of Henry, one could argue that Henry was possessed of the same affliction.

“Are you ready for me?” Abe breathed against Henry’s lips when the kiss ended.

Henry reached up and wrapped his hands around Abe’s biceps, squeezing hard enough that it would have bruised any human. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I _will_ take matters into my own hands.”

“I get the feeling I would enjoy that,” Abe chuckled. “But I do have plans for you, so I guess I’d better get a move on.”

“I would appreciate it,” Henry drawled, only a little breathless as he watched Abe sit back on his knees and reach for the abandoned bottle of lube.

He ached to reach out and help, to wrap his hand around Abe and spread that slickness there—or better still, take him into his mouth—but any distractions were liable to postpone Henry getting Abe where he wanted him most, and so he refrained.

He did not, however, make any effort to hide the way his gaze hungrily followed the path of Abe’s hand sliding slick on his own cock, or the way his breath hitched to match Abe’s at a swipe of a thumb up under the head and over the tip.

Then, at last, Abe was kneeling up between Henry’s spread legs, one large hand pressing on the inside of his thigh, spreading him wider, while he lined himself up with the other and pushed _in_.

Henry gasped, arching sharply from the mattress at the gratifying burn of the stretch, of Abe’s cock shoving past the initial resistance of Henry’s body and sliding smoothly in and – and stopping just short of where Henry wanted him.

There was a noise Henry would deny was a whine as Abe drew back out almost entirely and held there for a moment as if simply appreciating the feeling of Henry clenching down around him.

“ _Abe_ ,” Henry ground out, and as if waiting for his cue, Abe rocked back into him, giving him another inch and punching another satisfied noise from Henry’s lungs.

But again, too soon Abe was drawing back, and Henry retaliated by bringing up the leg that hadn’t been pinned and hooking it up over Abe’s hip in an effort to keep him in place. As retaliations went, it wasn’t Henry’s finest strategic moment, but he felt he couldn’t be blamed as his brain was otherwise occupied at the moment.

“Stop _teasing_ ,” Henry growled.

Abe’s response, much to Henry’s consternation, was a breathless smile.

“I’m not teasing,” Abe had the gall to insist, though he was still just barely holding himself inside Henry, “this is just my favorite part.”

“It would be my favorite part, too, if you would just– _fuck_!” Henry left off with a shout as Abe thrust in, nearly to the base in one sharp motion.

Still smiling, though looking considerably more strained, Abe gave a little laugh. “Is that not what I’m doing?”

Henry reached up, curling his hands back around Abe’s arms and tugging, not with any real strength but with great insistence. “If that’s what you’re doing then don’t fucking _stop_.”

At last, Abe seemed to be tired of whatever he had been doing to Henry, if it wasn’t teasing, and instead gave him just what he wanted, pulling back a little and then sliding all the way home. Henry groaned, reveling in the familiar, sweet ache of being spread open while above him, Abe sighed.

“My favorite part,” he repeated on the exhale. “Love feeling you open up, make room for me.”

Henry arched his back, tilting his head back against the mattress and attempting to cant his hips further against Abe, though he knew damn well it was impossible to get any closer. “Don’t _stop_ ,” he entreated, and Abe obliged.

Both hands slid up Henry’s thighs, hooked beneath his knees, pushed him open, and Abe began to fuck him in earnest. He took it slowly, deep and even thrusts that made sure Henry felt _everything_ , and _this_ – whatever else he might tell Abe, _this_ was Henry’s favorite part.

He loved the insistent rock of Abe’s hips; the slick slide of Abe’s cock, out and in and in and in, so slow that he felt like it might never end; the aching stretch that forced the air from him; the way Abe would lean in to kiss him, just as slow and considering, licking into Henry’s mouth and mimicking the motion of his hips, only to pull back and bite at his lips. It was Abe’s intense, single-minded focus, centered entirely on Henry; it gave Henry the distinct impression that he was being savored, and it was heady and terrifying and _wonderful_.

The pace was untenable, however. They both had the stamina for it, but neither had the patience, and without warning Abe dropped his hips and thrust in hard. Henry cried out at the feeling of the head of Abe’s cock raking against his prostate, and only just managed to draw enough breath to make the same noise when Abe did the same thing over again – and again, and again.

“Oh, fuck, Abe,” Henry managed, nails (blunted, human; nothing could stop good sex like accidentally skinning your bedmate) scraping down the length of Abe’s back. “Fuck, _Abraham_.”

Abe hummed, never faltering in his new pace, fucking into Henry in quick, hard strokes, shallower than before but devastatingly accurate. Henry could already feel the orgasm welling up from his core when Abe spoke again.

“Will you touch yourself? I want to see you find your release,” he pressed a distracted kiss to Henry’s face, somewhere in the vicinity of his mouth, “before I find my own inside you.”

He didn’t have to ask twice; Henry’s hand was on his cock before he’d even realized he made the decision to grab it, and he found himself practically keening at the added sensation of his fist sliding up and down the shaft.

“That’s it,” Abe encouraged him, voice gone gravelly and strained in the way it did when he was close to coming. “Perfect, you look so perfect like this Henry, so close I can almost taste it on you.”

Henry picked up the pace, encouraged not by the praise (not _entirely_ by the praise) but by the thought that Abe was close – the thought that after Henry came, Abe would, and he would do so inside Henry, filling him up and leaving him wet and dripping, _marking him_.

Henry was already inside Abe, his blood marking Abe as his; he loved the thought of a little bit of Abe being inside _him_ in return, and Abe knew it.

And exploited it shamelessly.

“Fill you up just the way you like, so you can feel me inside you even after I’ve pulled out, leave you without any doubt who you belong to, Henry,” he was muttering against Henry’s cheek, utterances becoming as filthy as Abe ever allowed them to be.

“Yes, _yes_ ,” Henry was mumbling in return, unsure himself whether he was agreeing or just expressing his appreciation for the feeling of Abe still thrusting hard inside him, of his hand on his own cock (likely it was both).

He twisted his wrist at the head and nearly came right then; then Abe ducked his head and sank his teeth into the muscle of Henry’s neck and his orgasm slammed through him like a particularly agreeable truck.

Better metaphors could wait, Henry decided, putting any and all poetic inclinations on the back burner to instead call Abe’s name as he came.

Abe grunted in response, his rhythm faltering as Henry clenched down and pulsed around him, come pooling slickly between them, but somehow managed to hold on and fuck Henry right up to the edge of sobbing oversensitivity before coming himself.

Henry lived for the look of naked abandon that overtook Abe’s face as he came, all stresses and hard thoughts flying from him for a moment and instead leaving a look of such perfect surrender that Henry drank it in every bit as desperately as he did blood.

Slowly, Abe came down from his own high, ducking his head to lap again at the rapidly healing puncture wounds on Henry’s neck, careful not to let a drop of blood spill onto the sheets below (a thoughtful effort, though Henry supposed they were going to have to change the sheets anyway; at least ejaculate was easier to wash out than blood), and Henry sighed at the sensation, reaching up to bury his fingers in Abe’s hair.

At last Abe had to slip free of Henry’s body, a dull noise of protest pulling from Henry’s throat though Abe didn’t go far, settling at Henry’s side and continuing to press affectionate kisses up Henry’s neck, under his jaw, beneath the hollow of his ear, and Henry couldn’t help the smile that tugged across his face. He’d always enjoyed the afterglow, but Abe had almost put a new meaning to it.

With a sigh, Henry stretched, languid and reveling in the feeling of Abe against his side, in the ache and wet sensation at the apex of his thighs that were also Abe’s doing. That loose, well-fucked feeling never lasted long, and Henry always mourned its loss. He imagined what it might be like to be able to feel Abe for hours or even days after the fact and could feel himself clenching down around nothing at the thought.

Henry wasn’t much one to romanticize the human condition, but if ever there was a time to do it, he supposed it would be when he already felt a little base and messy, wishing he could keep the sensation of his lover inside himself just a while longer.

Unwilling to give it up just yet, Henry reached down and pressed his fingers to where he could feel the mess of come and lube slipping out of him. Slick and open as he was, two fingers slid in with no resistance at all, and another little noise tugged free from the back of his throat.

At Henry’s side, Abe echoed the noise, darker and heavier with arousal.

“Insatiable,” Abe muttered, but when Henry opened his eyes, unaware of when they’d even closed, Abe was looking down at him as though there was nothing more captivating in the entire world than Henry.

“Not ready to let you go,” Henry replied.

Abe hummed and propped himself up on his elbow to smile down at Henry. “In that case, I could offer a hand?”

Henry was quick to nod, crooking his fingers up inside himself and rubbing slowly.

He had expected to feel Abe’s hand trail down his chest to wrap around his already hardening cock, and so was surprised to instead feel one of Abe’s fingers pressing gently, insistently, in alongside his own to stretch him open wider.

A vampire’s refractory period was directly related to how recently they had fed (in Henry’s case, very) and the strength of their own willpower (again in Henry’s case, formidable), yet Henry felt he could safely say he had never gone so fully erect in such a short amount of time. A glance down at Abe confirmed that he was in a much similar state.

“Do you want to finish like this?” Abe asked, pistoning his finger in time with Henry’s own thrusts. “Just our fingers inside you? Do you think you could?”

It was a ridiculous question, considering Abe had made Henry come doing just that before, and probably would again. Rather than point this out, Henry groaned, picking up the pace. Abe matched him, leaning closer to murmur in his ear.

“Maybe I could use your mouth afterwards. Or maybe,” he paused, breath rough against Henry’s temple, “you’d let me have you again?”

That was it.

Henry pulled out, prompting Abe to do the same with brows suddenly furrowed in confusion. Before any question could make it out, however, Henry had planted one hand on Abe’s chest and shoved him onto his back, climbing over him to straddle his thighs.

The confusion resolved into a smile. “Is that a yes?”

“It is an _emphatic_ yes,” Henry replied roughly, searching for bottle of lube in the wreckage of the sheets.

There was no reason to be any more uncomfortable than necessary, and besides that, he owed Abe for all the filthy thoughts he’d poured into Henry’s ear. He wasn’t yet so desperate that he couldn’t dish out just a little payback, and with this thought he squeezed a generous amount of lube onto three of his fingers and reached behind himself to spread it around and press in.

Admittedly, preparing himself rarely required quite so much squirming, or quite so many breathless noises, but Henry wasn’t at all above playing up the sensations a little. Abe’s rapt attention—and the bruising grip he had on Henry’s thighs—certainly helped. Eventually, though, as Henry worked up to rolling his hips down against his own hand, Abe’s patience wore thin.

“Henry, stop _teasing_ ,” Abe rasped, and at least he _sounded_ as wrecked as Henry felt.

Henry pulled his fingers free, wrapping his hand around Abe’s cock to spread the excess slick—too much lube and Abe’s own spend from earlier—while Abe gasped. Then, one hand bracing Abe and the other on Abe’s chest to brace himself, Henry rose up and sank down.

He moaned as Abe’s prick slid home for the second time that evening, Abe echoing the noise beneath him, and Henry gave himself no time at all to adjust to the girth; he barely needed it, and instead he set straight to work fucking himself on Abe’s cock.

As ever, Abe made for an obliging ride, managing to brace his feet against the mattress and bucking up into Henry just as Henry ground down, perfectly in tune despite the absence of rhythm.

The steady, pounding tempo of their first round was nowhere to be found here, their movements choppy and raw, caring only for faster and harder, for more stimulation. Henry let his head fall back, let himself get lost in the sensation, clenching down around Abe just to feel that unyielding hardness spearing him open and shoving him inexorably towards orgasm.

Below, Abe grunted at the feeling of Henry going tight around him, arousal building tighter and tighter between them, and when Henry looked back down at him, he was wearing a grin that only ever meant bad (read: wonderfully filthy) things were about to happen.

“What?” Henry asked, voice gone breathless and cracking.

The look on Abe’s face said he would be blushing if he could—though, by rights, they both would have been red-faced with pleasure and exertion right now if that were the case—but the cunning, heated smile didn’t budge, and when he leaned up to murmur in Henry’s ear, Henry knew whatever he was going to say was going to break him.

“I love when you let me do this,” Abe’s voice was barely above a growl, and Henry let out a sound to match. “When I can feel how loose you are. How wet you are with me. When you let me feel how well I’ve _fucked_ you, Henry…”

Abe’s fingers dipped down, no longer clenching at Henry’s thighs but pushing insistently where they were joined, where Abe’s cock was spreading him wide, where the last of Abe’s spend was slipping out of him with every thrust, and Henry was helpless to do anything but come.

Abe followed suit, hands tight on Henry’s ass and face buried in the crook of Henry’s neck, hips jerking hard as Henry ground down against him, both of them riding out the final pulses of what Henry, at least, would have dubbed a truly excellent orgasm.

They sat entangled in one another, catching the breath they didn’t altogether need, sticky with come and nearly warm with exertion and very much in need of a shower, but unwilling to part just yet. When Abe finally did slip from Henry’s body, Henry couldn’t help the shivery moan at the feeling of slick dripping down his thighs that followed, giving a reflexive thrust against the crease of Abe’s hip.

“Not again,” Abe groaned, laughing all the same as he fell back against the mattress. “I can’t do that again.”

“Unwilling to finish what you started, Abraham?” Henry teased, though he was still a little breathless himself. “That’s unlike you.”

Abe raised his brows at Henry, and all at once Henry realized he probably shouldn’t have said anything at all.

“Give me ten minutes,” Abe said slowly, “and then I think we could use a shower, don’t you?”

Even as Henry nodded, flopping gracelessly onto the bed beside Abe to gather whatever energy he could muster, he took back whatever he’d been thinking before. Tonight wasn’t about asking and receiving, nor about giving and taking.

Tonight, apparently, was about Abe _fucking ruining_ Henry.

(And really, what a way to go.)

**Author's Note:**

> I'll see myself out


End file.
